“I came to the dying man and put my plan before him. I told him of the work you boys and the old Professor were planning and of your search. ‘Christophe,’ I said to him, ‘in his earlier days had the good of his people at heart. What could be more fitting than that the “Rope of Gold” be sold to some great museum where it will be faithfully preserved, and that the money thus obtained be spent in bettering Haitian people?’
“He was a very old man,” the doctor sighed. “He was long in seeing the light. In fact, when I sent for you,” he nodded toward Johnny, “he had not given his consent. When you went for the medicine he had not. That is why I did not wish to go.
“But to-night, with his dying breath, he gave his consent. His best friends, his henchmen, heard and are satisfied. And to-morrow we bear the ‘Rope of Gold’ once more into the light of day and on down to the valley which Christophe in his youth loved and to a service for the people whom he might have served better had not greed gripped at his heart.”
The story was over. Yet, for some time the two boys sat there, motionless, silent. The whole affair was so strange, so gloriously wonderful that they could not make it seem true.
The doctor rose and went back into the darkness that was the cave. Still they sat there a long time in silence.
“To-morrow,” said Johnny huskily.
“To-morrow,” Curlie echoed.
“And to think,” Curlie spoke once more, “he asked nothing for himself.”
“He does not care for money. He told me all about that. His is a remarkable story. I’ll tell you about him.”
And there while the dancing flames cast grotesque shadows on the walls of the cave, Johnny told the doctor’s story.